


Captains in the Library

by junko



Series: Chasing Demons [27]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya thinks he's evaded captain's Kyouraku and Ukitake, but he's been outplayed.  Now it seems that he's hosting his own impromptu party....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captains in the Library

**Author's Note:**

> In which fancy varieties of sake and BDSM negotiations are discussed and I make up an entire backstory for Byakuya's father, Sōjun....
> 
> I also continue to lay the groundwork for my own non-canonical version of the Eighth Division's true mission (which, frankly, given recent developments, doesn't seem all that far-fetched.) Of course, Shunsui doesn't come out and admit to anything, but then a good spymaster wouldn't, would he? (Oh. Did I say that? I shouldn't have said that.)

Byakuya had just settled into a good book and a cup of tea when Eishirō knelt at the door with an apology and an announcement, “A thousand pardons for the interruption, my lord, but you have visitors. Captains Kyōraku and Ukitake are waiting in the library.”

Finding a bookmark, Byakuya set his reading aside with a frown. Good gods, they’d followed him back! Even after Byakuya had made it perfectly clear he was finished with them? How utterly rude. Worse, they’d managed to breach the defenses. It would be impossible now to feign illness or otherwise turn them away. 

If only Renji had been here. He would have found away to keep them at bay.

“Very well,” Byakuya said with a sigh. “I shall attend them in a moment. You’ve seen that they have refreshments?”

“Oh yes, my lord,” Even from behind the rice paper, Byakuya could hear a wry amusement in Eishirō’s tone, “Captain Kyōraku has already insisted on a taste of your finest sake.”

“Of course he has,” Byakuya murmured. Standing, he wondered if he should leave Senbonzakura or go in to the library as though prepared for battle. He decided he needed the comfort of the familiar weight at his side and slid the zanpakutō into place. “You might as well tap any barrels that are nearing expiration. And, the Captain Ukitake has a fondness for sweets. Please send up something appropriate.”

“My lord.”

#

Byakuya stood at the door to his library staring in mute horror at the scene before him. Ukitake stood in front of the shelves, having helped himself to one of the slim volumes of poetry from Byakuya’s father’s private collection. Meanwhile, Kyōraku sprawled out on the za-button cushions in Byakuya’s favorite sunny spot near the doors which were open to a view of the interior courtyard’s garden. At his elbow sat a tea tray with bowls and an already opened bottle with the Kuchikis’ master brewer’s personal label.

Damn it all. Eishirō had brought out the very finest.

Kyōraku was in the middle of sniffing his bowl like a connoisseur when he noticed Byakuya at the threshold. “Mr. Byakuya! You never told me your family made jizake!”

“Of course not,” Byakuya said, grimly surveying the room for an appropriate space to sit. The only option seemed to be beside Kyōraku. But to keep some distance between them, Byakuya chose to sit seiza rather than take the comfort of a cushion. “Your presence in the Gotei has forced my family’s tōjis to live lives of obscurity and secrecy for generations. It’s been long-held belief that if you and your legendary hollow-leg ever discovered our microbrewery you would drink us to ruin.”

Kyōraku seemed to find this historical fact uproariously hilarious. “Well, I may yet drink your stores dry!” he warned. “This is fine, fine stuff! Shirō, you must come have a bowl.”

“In a minute,” Ukitake murmured, his head still bowed over the book of kōan.

“You’re worried about me?” Kyōraku sat up enough to nudge Byakuya lightly in the ribs. “You may never pry him from your library.”

Byakuya took in a slow, steady breath in an attempt to not appear horrified by the idea of these two as constant lodgers at the estate. And, because he had to, he said flatly and with no real intention: “You’re always welcome to borrow any books that strike your fancy, Taicho.”

Ukitake carefully returned the volume to where he’d found it, and smiled, “Ah, but Shunsui’s right; I’d want them all.” He gave Byakuya a very meaningful glance and slyly added, “And I’m sure even Kuchiki generosity has its limits.”

Byakuya let out a rueful laugh, “Indeed. My family is so well-known for its charity and philanthropy, is it not?” It was funny that he’d just been thinking about this problem of the Kuchiki legacy. Byakuya let go of his annoyance with a sigh. Ukitake was right. It was unseemly to show such stinginess to colleagues. He poured a bowl of sake and held it out to Ukitake, “I must warn you, your partner probably appreciates this brew because it’s undiluted and quite strong. Also, don’t be surprised by the cloudiness. This is a muroka and the sediment has intentionally been kept for added flavor. It’s not to everyone’s taste, but my grandfather, as you both may remember, was particular to it.”

Ukitake sat in seiza as well and took the bowl as it was offered: with both hands and a slight bow. 

“You’re not a fan?” Ukitake asked, looking somewhat suspiciously at the milky, pearlescent appearance. 

“My commission is a koshu. I prefer its mellow, honeyed taste,” Byakuya explained as he poured himself his own bowl. “But, I’m sorry to say, the most recent batch hasn’t aged sufficiently to be served. It won’t be ready for several years yet.”

Ukitake took a tentative sip and his dark eyebrows raised high in surprise. The captain’s corresponding light coughing fit made Kyōraku let out one of his thunderous laughs, and pat Ukitake on the thigh sympathetically, “The boy did warn you it was strong.”

“It’s surprisingly sweet,” Ukitake added cheerfully, “And it smells of fruit! I was expecting something nuttier.”

“I believe the presence of the muroka means that my house steward intends to offer dessert.” Sensing Aio at the door, Byakuya added, “And here is the serving girl with it.”

Aio laid out a tray for them filled with a variety of perfectly arranged white, pink and pale-green diafuku. She politely explained that the choices included mugwort, plum, and chestnut-flavored centers. Then she made her bows and backed out. At the door, she knelt and asked, “Is there anything else I could provide my lords?”

“Goodness, no! We’re fine, thank you,” Ukitake said brightly. “This is all so amazing!”

Aio hesitated, clearly uncertain what to do with all of Ukitake’s enthusiasm. “This is sufficient for the moment,” Byakuya said to her. “I’ll ring should we need anything further.”

With another deep bow, Aio slid the door closed.

“She’s quite a lovely girl. Would I have seen her around the Sixth?” Kyōraku asked, reaching out to help himself to one of the minty-green colored diafuku. 

“Yes, she serves both here and at the Division,” Byakuya said, trying to decide which of the treats would be mugwort. 

“Ah yes,” Kyōraku said as though suddenly struck with a memory, “I remember now! She was the one who came to beg so nervously for the special hangover cure from my Nanao-chan that morning after you first took up with Mr. Renji!” 

Luckily, Byakuya had already swallowed his sip of sake or he would have choked. Ukitake wasn’t nearly as fortunate as he’d just bit into a diafuku, but he managed to cover his mouth as he sputtered. 

Kyōraku continued as though no one were shocked his casual revelation of intimate details, “She was a cute one--very flustered about the whole situation. Got me so curious, in fact, I decided I had to come investigate for myself.” Kyōraku laughed again, gesturing at Byakuya with his sake bowl, “And you hid behind the door, while Mr. Renji boldly guarded your reputation and your virtue! You must have been exceedingly disheveled, as I remembered Mr. Renji’s hair was down. First time I’d ever seen it like that. What an amazing crimson jumble!” Kyōraku nodded around another sip of sake, as though continuing on to himself appreciatively, “Ah, yes… such a wild, wanton look.”

“You’re drooling, dear,” Ukitake noted dryly, but he was smiling as he took another cautious sip of sake.

“Can I help it?” Kyōraku asked with another boisterous laugh. “He was a striking image! I recall thinking Mr. Byakuya was awfully clever for having seen the diamond in the rough.” He shook his head in wonderment, “Because, usually, Mr. Renji is quite rough indeed.”

Ukitake nodded in agreement.

Byakuya listened to the conversation from behind his sake bowl with a strange mixture of pride and relief. It was reassuring to know that he wasn’t alone in finding Renji’s wildness alluring, and he was correspondingly pleased to have captured him first.

“I’m afraid all that rough and tumble and grunting and tattoos doesn’t usually do it for me,” Ukitake smiled, and bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. “My type is usually…” He stopped and blinked, “What was that word you came up with for me, Shunsui?”

“Sapiosexual,” Kyōraku offered.

Ukitake blushed—a light pinking across his nose and cheeks, “Yes, that’s it. Smart people turn me on.”

“Renji might surprise you. He did graduate at the top of his Academy class,” Byakuya reminded Ukitake, though he found himself grateful that he didn’t have his former captain as a rival. Renji might not be Ukitake’s type, but Byakuya wasn’t at all sure the reverse wasn’t true. Ukitake was a very delicate, handsome man with a lot of well-kept, snow-white hair. As often as Renji’s fingers seemed to find their way into Byakuya’s, it seemed the lieutenant might have a thing for it. He hated to think of what Renji would make of all those silken strands. To banish the image, Byakuya took another sip of the sweet sake. “But, it’s true; Renji isn’t bookish in the least—unless you count regulation manuals. He seems to delight in having memorized huge sections of them.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed,” Ukitake admitted around a nibble of diafuku. “So he’s a good adjutant?”

“Good? He’s the finest I’ve ever had,” Byakuya said. “I would wager the best in the Gotei.”

“Now, now! My Nanao-chan would give him a run for his money!” Kyōraku blustered.

Byakuya wasn’t so sure. Lieutenant Ise always seemed perfectly well-organized, but what kind of fighter was she? Byakuya had no sense of her as a warrior. He couldn’t even recall having seen her shikai. Could she train troops as well as Renji? Byakuya doubted it; she seemed too prissy to be nearly as good with people.

Ukitake stared into the depths of his sake cup. It was clear that he was remembering Kaien Shiba. Byakuya had no sympathy. He still found it unforgivable that Rukia had to do what her captain could not.

Kyōraku astutely steered the conversation elsewhere, though in typical fashion, into something far more embarrassing. “So…,” he mused, tipping his straw hat back and wagging his thick eyebrows suggestively, “…are all those tattoos just for show? Is our dear Mr. Renji secretly refined and well-heeled in other areas, as well?”

Byakuya smiled into his sake cup, “Thankfully, no.”

“Ah ha!” Kyōraku roared happily. “Mr. Byakuya enjoys the challenge of the untamed beast!

Ukitake clucked his tongue, and shook his head at Kyōraku, “You must be overjoyed, Shunsui. Finally, you’ve found another who shares your enthusiasm for those thugs at the Eleventh.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Byakuya said, offering refills all around. 

“No? Didn’t I see you—barefoot!—at my birthday party there?” Kyōraku teased. “And I do think that there’s a mutual admiration between you and Zaraki, though, clearly, you’d both die before admitting it.” 

Byakuya would have to be a lot drunker before he’d agree to anything like that. “Renji is an exception. Unlike the rest, there is, with him, at least, some hope of obedience.”

“Oh? Perhaps I was mistaken. Is deference a quality you usually look for in a lover?” Kyōraku asked. 

“Of course,” Byakuya said simply. He couldn’t see why not; it was certainly traditional.

Ukitake, meanwhile, seemed too scandalized to speak. He had one hand over his mouth, as though holding back some exclamation. But instead of being offended, as Byakuya had expected, Ukitake finally lifted his fingers lightly to stage whisper to his partner, “Wouldn’t that be boring? All that ‘yes, sir’ in bed? I get enough of that at the office! I wouldn’t want to bring it home.”

“Some like submission,” Kyōraku explained. “I could imagine how it could be quite thrilling, especially when the partner is… how shall I put this? ‘Netachi,’ I supposed the kids would say.”

“Oh!” Ukitake dropped his hand and brightened. “Oh, I see! A contest of wills! A fun game! We play at this one too!” Ukitake gave Byakuya a sly smile, and said conspiratorially, “Sometimes I even let Shunsui win.”

“Ah, such sweet surrender,” Kyōraku laughed, his hand over his heart.

Byakuya smiled at the two of them, though he suspected their ‘games’ were nothing like what he and Renji played. Or if they did, somehow Kyōraku laughed through the whole thing. Frankly, Byakuya would have to gag him. 

Ukitake was nodding as though considering something important. “I hope you let Renji win a lot after all this recent business. Otherwise the power differential must be a careful and difficult part of the play.”

“It’s not so far apart as it once was,” Byakuya said, filling bowls again. He would have to ring for a new bottle soon. “Renji’s achieved bankai.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news,” Ukitake said with a sigh that sounded almost like relief. “I have to admit, I’d been a little worried, Byakuya. You’re much more powerful than most, and you are the boy’s commander. That could be… touchy.”

“Indeed,” Kyōraku said, “We can’t all be blessed with lieutenants as fond of being sexually harassed as my Nanao-chan.”

Ukitake rolled his eyes. “I’m not sure she’s nearly as fond as you imagine,” he said in a tone that sounded like this was an old argument between them. “Besides, if Byakuya and Renji play the game of dominance and submission, then that lends a very different dynamic to their working relationship, especially with the stronger of the two in the lead role in both the bedroom and the office.”

“Jūshirō!” Kyōraku admonished lightly, “You worry too much. I’m sure Mr. Byakuya and Mr. Renji have already worked all the details out between them. If this is a particular preference for either of them, then they’ve surely negotiated more than you or I can imagine.”

Byakuya frowned at the turn this discussion seemed to have taken, especially since he was pretty sure he’d fallen short of Kyōraku’s expectations. At least neither captain appeared to expect much of an answer from Byakuya, and, instead seemed content to talk around him. However, if he was going to continue to endure this discussion, they needed much more sake. Byakuya pressed the bell for the servants.

“Oh! My apologies,” Ukitake said. “Listen to me going on like you’re my younger brother in need of ‘the talk.’ Of course, if you’re engaging in all that, you’ve probably talked a lot. Communication and trust are such important things no matter what games you play. Goodness knows, we wouldn’t have lasted this long without absolute trust.”

“And romance,” Kyōraku added jovially. “I do love to spoil my Jūshirō. I’ll give you some advice for free, my lad. You want to keep a person sweet for centuries, learn to be romantic! Send flowers for no reason! Sing love songs under their window! Compose wretched, heart-felt poetry!”

“Ah, yes, poetry,” Byakuya smiled lightly. “It does work wonders, does it not?”

“Oh?” Ukitake smiled mischievously, “You’ve committed poetry for Renji? I’d love to hear it!”

The servant came to the door at that moment, and Byakuya ordered two more bottles. Once she left, he explained, “No, Renji wrote the poetry, if you could call it that, but I’m afraid I can’t repeat a word of it. The language is hardly appropriate for polite company.”

“Ha!” Kyōraku burst out happily. He sat up again to refill everyone’s bowls, drawing out the very last drops, “My favorite kind of poetry! I do hope it was a limerick. I’ve had great luck rhyming ‘hard as a rock’ with ‘giant, great—‘“

“Ai! Shunsui, please!” Ukitake admonished, in a tone that Byakuya couldn’t help but interpret as ‘not in front of the children.’ 

Byakuya was on the verge of losing all control and bursting out with gales of laughter. He actually had to dip his head and press his fingers to his mouth to hold it back. It wouldn’t be such a hardship, after all, if these two became regular guests. Byakuya hadn’t had this much fun in company for a long, long time.

“Look,” Ukitake said in mock seriousness, “You must stop. You’ve nearly doubled the boy over with your foolishness.”

“Ah? So it’s true! It would actually kill Mr. Byakuya to laugh,” Kyōraku said, sounding almost genuinely sad. “Is it a genetic thing? Your grandfather was a sour puss, too. Though, not that handsome father of yours! Now, he was a delight!”

“Until service took him from us. And so young,” Ukitake murmured with a shake of his head and a long sip of sake, “Tsk, he should never have been in the field.”

“Now, now, some people say that of you,” Kyōraku reminded Ukitake. “Sōjun was a credit to his Division. The problem was, of course, that Ginrei never respected his true strengths. He would have far better served me. I tried to push for a transfer, if you recall, but Kuchiki pride got in the way of that!”

Byakuya glanced up curiously. “I never heard this story.” 

They had to pause when Aio returned with the bottles. She also laid out a tray of sliced peaches as well as refilling the treat plate before making her bows and leaving them. 

Byakuya shook the bottle and then set out refilling everyone’s bowls, he asked, “Tell me, why do you think my father would have done better at the Eighth?”

Kyōraku adjusted his hat, as though to put in at a more serious and thoughtful angle. “I wouldn’t have expected Sōjun to be anything other than what he was.”

“A poet?” Byakuya sneered. “Is that what your Division fosters?”

“Hardly,” Kyōraku said with an inscrutable grin. “Though, I would never waste one, should I ever have the great fortune to acquire someone with the kind of language skills that profession requires. There are many ways to win a battle, my boy. Some of it is a matter of heart, which your father had in spades. Sōjun was genuinely curious about other people’s lives and situations. Clever, too, your father. Ginrei always thought him inattentive and preoccupied, but nothing could have been further from the truth. His skill simply wasn’t with the sword, but with the mind.”

It was heart-breaking to hear his father being spoken of with such high regard. Byakuya had endured a lot of veiled and even direct insults about his father’s lack of prowess in battle both from within the family and without. In fact, his grandfather had used his father’s death as a constant reminder to Byakuya to stay utterly focused and strong, not to let whimsy or flights of fantasy distract him. Allowing for any kind of emotion, he was told again and again, would weaken his resolve and kill him—just like it had his father.

“Yes, you know, he was a lot like you, Shunsui,” Ukitake agreed. 

“In more ways than that,” Kyōraku said. He touched Byakuya’s knee lightly, “Your father’s dominant hand was his left. Shinigami are all trained to use our right hands exclusively. It was a massive disadvantage for him, which he worked diligently to ‘correct.’” Kyōraku snorted in derision at that thought. “Ah! More’s the shame I was never allowed to instruct him. I could at least have showed him the advantages of being able to use either hand interchangeably. How much better for him than that rigid old fart Genrei insisting he ‘conform’!”

How was it that Byakuya had never known such a simple, profound detail about his own father? “But… I never saw….”

“Of course not,” Ukitake said. “Sōjun would be mortified even now to hear us discussing it, he was so ashamed.”

“So, I see,” Byakuya said quietly. “It was not incompetence that killed my father, but Kuchiki pride.”

Ukitake and Kyōraku seemed to hold their breaths at that for a long moment, until Kyōraku shook his head sadly, “It’s easy for all of us to judge from a distance. And for me to make the same mistake of thinking I know what was best for the man.”

Ukitake seemed to be getting wobbly in seiza, so he shifted his legs to the side to sit more like a woman might, “Yes, exactly. I’m sure Genrei only hoped to protect his son the best way he knew how.”

“You misunderstand if you think I would defend my grandfather’s actions,” Byakuya said sharply. He surprised himself by adding a slurred, “There is no love lost between us.”

“I can only imagine he was a difficult taskmaster, particularly after Sōjun’s death,” Ukitake said softly.

“Ah, the man was a bastard, let’s just say it,” Kyōraku said, plopping backwards onto the pillows dramatically. He covered his face with his hat then, as if to say that was the end of the discussion.

Byakuya couldn’t agree more. He lifted his bowl as though in a toast, “Here, here.”

Ukitake seemed less willing to partake in speaking ill of the dead. He glanced into the depths of his sake and swirled the sediment around, “Well, he had good taste in sake.”

“And women,” Kyōraku said from under his hat. “His wife was a stunning beauty.”

“I liked my grandmother quite a bit,” Byakuya said. “She always played card games with me at boring family gatherings and had hard candy hidden up her sleeves.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Ukitake smiled, producing one from somewhere in his sleeve as well. They all laughed as he popped into his mouth.

Kyōraku seemed to fall asleep shortly after that, leaving Byakuya and Ukitake to chat amiably about favorite poets and playwrights. “You still keep up with the theatre scene?” Ukitake asked. “We never see you there much anymore.”

“I doubt Renji would have the patience for a show, even as bawdy as some kabuki can be,” Byakuya noted. “And, anyway, he’s hardly an appropriate companion for such ventures.”

“Oh and why not?”

Byakuya gave Ukitake a side-long glance and then sighed impatiently, “Because he’s a grown man.”

Ukitake glanced briefly over at where Kyōraku sprawled, snoring, his hands folded neatly on his broad, hairy chest. He returned his gaze to his sake cup, and smiled sadly, “Poor Renji.”

“What’s this?” Byakuya snapped in irritation.

“I’m sure Renji cleans up at least as nicely as my Shunsui, probably more so. He certainly couldn’t be more embarrassing as mine at times! So, it’s not that he wouldn’t make a lovely addition to your arm, is it? He fails some other test. You don’t think him worthy of a clan head, perhaps?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He’s my lieutenant,” Byakuya explained. “I can hardly take him out on the town like I would a lady.”

“Oh, but you could. His rank makes his presence even less of an issue. People would never look twice. In fact, I’m sure they expect a man of your station to travel with an entire retinue, and a military captain is always allowed his adjutant at his side. Isn’t that how you passed at the Hanami? Or has something changed since then?”

So much had, hadn’t it?

Byakuya pursed his lips. He was about to tell Ukitake that he would consider it when Eishirō appeared at the door with more apologies, “It seems the lieutenant has let himself into the kitchen, my lord. Should I tell him you’re with guests?”

“Yes, he can wait in the master suite,” Byakuya said.

“Oh no, you can’t, Byakuya!” Ukitake cried. Smacking Kyōraku’s foot, he added, “We’ll go, won’t we Shunsui?”

“Or Mr. Renji could join us,” Kyōraku said sitting up, and looking surprisingly sober. 

Dear gods, no. Given the state of them all, who knew what they’d end up talking about! It had been mortifying enough. Byakuya stood, forcing the other captains to scramble to their feet as well. Ukitake needing Kyōraku’s support to do so; Byakuya discovered he could have used someone to lean on as well. He had to catch himself on a nearby bookshelf. “I’m sure it’s late. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“We’re getting kicked out, Shirō,” Kyōraku smiled, tucking Ukitake’s arm in his and adjusting his hat. “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Byakuya. You must thank your staff for the amazing spread, and please tell Mr. Renji we sorely missed the opportunity to enjoy his company. It’s such a terrible shame you feel you need to hide him in your bedroom.”

Ukitake shook his head sloppily, “Very big shame. We’re going to have insist that you both come to ours. Together, like a proper couple.”

“Yes,” Kyōraku said amicably and completely without any slurring. His eyes were bright and steady, too, “Your family has a microbrewery, but my brother owns an entire distillery. You must allow me to treat you and Mr. Renji to the Kyōraku label.”

Byakuya managed a bow that gave him only the slightest vertigo. He tightened his grip on the shelf. “We would be honored.”

“Just be sure to let him out every once and a while,” Kyōraku laughed. “Or the poor boy will think he’s nothing more than your sex toy.”

“Shunsui! Ach, he’s always like this when he’s had too much to drink,” Ukitake slurred, giving Kyōraku a playful slap on the arm. “Pay him no mind.”

Byakuya nodded, showing them the door and leaving them in Eishirō’s capable, sober hands. Then, he turned to make his wobbly, uncertain way up the stairs to the master suite.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again a slang term for queer behavior is bandied about. This time Renji is referred to as 'natachi,' whose English equivelant would probably best be 'straight-acting,' though it's actually a melding of the terms 'neko' (receiver, traditionally 'girly') and tachiyaku ('butch,' aggressor), so maybe it would be the more derisive, 'girly man' or 'butch femme.' I should note that while this may sound offensive, neither Kyouraku nor I intend any insult to our dear Renji--I'm fairly sure Kyouraku would describe himself the same way (and I wore a button on my leather jacket all through the early 90s declaring myself a 'femmy butch').


End file.
